25 June 2000 ~ In the cards, and my father's voice...

I read my Tarot cards last night at three in the morning last night. I'm not quite sure why, but sometimes I just get in this mood -- like I want to call a psychic hotline and talk to LaToya, like I want to buy a ouija board and talk to spirits, all that... It's not that I believe LaToya Jackson can see the future -- it's not that I necessarily believe ANYONE can see the future -- but I am secretly very superstitious in nature. If I turn on the radio first thing in the morning and its playing a shitty song, it will be a shitty day. Of course, that's probably just self-fulfilling prophecy, but... look, what the hell -- Tarot cards are a harmless little superstition that I occasionally partake in, just as mostly everybody reads their horoscope sometimes...

Anyway, I got a DAMNED weird reading. Usually, I'll ask something like, "what's going on in my love life?" or something, and then lay down three cards: one for past, present, and future. That's how I was taught to do it, although I have never seen anything like that in books or anything... But I tried a new way of laying down the cards last night, and lo and fucken behold, it actually seemed to make a little bit of sense. Generally, the cards I pick don't make ANY sense: the past will be something about an overseas journey, the present will be something about imprisonment, and the future will be something about a woman with black hair -- you know, really off-the-wall stuff that doesn't make any sense at ALL. But this one did, and I wrote down the whole spread just so I can ask Aaron about it later, as he seems most, uh, attuned with the infinite or whatever -- or at least he makes a better presentation...

(You ever have a horoscope that really, seriously makes you stop and think? And you know it's just something dumb that was picked arbitrarily out of Wayne's Big Book of Stupid Sayings and Clichés, but it sort of... hits you? And then you think that even if it was just chosen out of Wayne's Big Book, maybe everything happens for a reason? And that randomness really isn't random at all? And then you think you're just being stupid, and forget all about it until in the middle of the day for no reason at all, it comes back and hits you square in the forehead and suddenly you're absolutely sure that the higher forces are helping to move you around? That's how I feel RIGHT now...)

I thought I heard my dad's voice this morning outside my window. It wasn't my dad, of course, because what would he be doing walking around on my street? Especially when I know for a fact he's losing my brothers' college money in Atlantic City this weekend, and wouldn't be caught dead walking a street like mine, being a big businessman and all... Especially when I know for a fact that he's gained like, tons of weight and probably wouldn't even walk to the damned mailbox, much less up and down my street.

I started thinking about my dad. About the morning he told me that men would never want me for anything but sex... I think he thought that he was doing me some favor, protecting my purity or something by making me want to stay away from sleazy, sleazy, dirty, dirty badmen.

"What did you talk about?" he asked accusingly. Of course I couldn't tell him, because I wasn't quite sure WHAT we'd talked about, just that it ended up being quite lengthy and gave me a hell of a lot to think about.

"We just talked..."

"And you didn't sleep with him?"

"No."

"I'm going to ask again... You didn't sleep with him?"

"No! I didn't!" I was getting frustrated and whiny. I HADN'T. I was 16 years old. At that point, I don't think I'd slept with ANYBODY yet, although my time was very close at hand. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're lying," he said, matter-of-factly. "Boys don't invite you to stay the night with them and then just talk... They've got other intentions."

"Well, maybe YOU do... But I didn't sleep with ANYBODY! I've NEVER slept with anybody. I slept on the floor. Why can't you just TRUST me?" And then, I turned really whiny and you could have told from ten miles away that I was an oppressed 16-year-old girl. I've always been mature for my age, but sometimes I just slip and go all infantile and angsty. I did that a LOT at 16. I think mostly everybody does that a lot at 16.

My dad. Always trying to protect my precious virginity. Trying to protect my precious virginity WELL after I'd lost it.

I think he gave up trying the morning he walked into my bedroom and saw me lying in bed half-naked with a half-naked man. He didn't say anything, just "it's time to get up." He said it with a sort of sigh of defeat. Come to think of it, after that, he didn't have much to say to me at all. He hinted around at it for about a week, telling stories from his youth about girls and dating and whatnot, trying to get me to confess, to open up and say, "oh, yeah, I did that once, and then we went off and had sex," I guess. I know my dad pretty well -- doesn't mean I LIKE him, but I know his style better than almost anybody. I couldn't quite believe he was so stupid that he honestly thought that an 18-year-old girl who he'd witnessed in nothing but a pair of underwear in the arms of a guy ALSO wearing nothing but underwear, could still be a virgin in the year 1998. I mean, nothing wrong with virgins and all; nothing wrong with virgins who are 18 or 32 or 60; but generally, virgins don't sleep naked with other people. Virgins generally don't have a LOT of my personality traits. My poor father.

I always kind of wondered what the big deal was. I mean, when I told my mom I was sexually active, she was like, "use condoms, and if you ever have any questions, don't be afraid to come to me." Indeed, I've come to her many times: mom, when is it normal to bleed? mom, what's a yeast infection, and can you give them to guys? so, mom, do they ALWAYS want to stick their finger up your butt at the GYN office if your uterus is tilted backwards? mom, how many guys do you have to sleep with before you're a slut? I guess I don't really understand my dad. He tried to be so conservative when he taught us about sex. So conservative, that, in fact, he left most of the job up to my mom because he was uncomfortable talking about it.

And of course, my mom... well, let's just say a Republican senator wouldn't want her for a wife... As for me... I could ask her anything. Mostly, I still can. She's protective, but not protective in the "if-you-fuck-up-I'll-be-disappointed" way.

"Mama, if God loves people, why does he make germs that make them sick? Or does the devil make germs?" --me, at around age 7; I can't quite remember her reply, although I think it was something about God testing people, which I didn't understand because I started thinking about God proctoring a huge math examination...

My dad. Hm. Weird. I know it wasn't him on my street, And I don't know WHY I started thinking of his stupid no-sex lectures, and his way of making me feel like a tramp for having male friends. Maybe I still have a little bit of a guilty conscience, because I know he'd be disappointed in me -- hell, I know he is disappointed in me. I regret very few things I've done, personally, but I've never liked disappointing other people, not even my dad.

I'd really like a cup of tea... I'm on my very last bag of ginger-peach, and I'd like to make it last, but I just don't think it's going to happen... I hear thunder in the distance, and it's one of the most beautiful sounds in the world... But I'm off now to get some tea and watch some stupid television... And maybe later, I'll dance in the rain... Maybe if I can shake the feeling that my dad's watching me, I'll dance naked in the backyard...

~Helena*

"Father I killed my monkey; I let it out to taste the sweet of spring... Wonder if I will wander out, test my tether to see if I'm still free from you..." --Tori Amos